Spellbound
by Sakata Ri Houjun
Summary: A freelance photographer, Genrou, is led by his dreams to China where he finds himself caught in a thousand-year-old spell that has him bound to a mysterious stranger named Houjun. *complete*
1. Prologue

Spellbound

*Prologue

By Sakata Ri Houjun

*******************

__

Koi. Let me into your dreams. Open your heart and

hear me. Tasuki, I need you. Don't turn from me now,

or all is lost. I am lost. Koi.

Genrou shifted restlessly in sleep, turned his face

into the pillow. He could feel _him_ there, somehow. 

Skin, soft and yielding. Hands, gentle and soothing. 

Then he drifted into dreams of searing flames and vast

mountains that rose high among the clouds. And the

scent of _him_.

*~~~*

The temple rose atop a hill, silver stone spearing

into stormy skies. The sound of his mount's bridle

jingled brightly as he climbed high over the rolling

grass. Thunder sounded in the west over the mountains

in the distance. And echoed in his heart.

__

Had he waited for me?

His eyes, golden as the edges of the magical flame he

wielded, shifted, scanned, searching for any holes

where a foe could hide. His tessen lay ready. In

such a place a man did not lower his guard. Here

magic stung the air and could embrace or threaten. 

Here a god plotted or blessed, and a monk cast his

spells in that god's name.

Atop the lonely hill, towering above the nearby

stream, the temple stood, holding its secrets. No man

rode this path without hearing the whispers of old

legends and new spirits.

__

Had he waited for me?

The horse's hooves rang musically over rock until at

last they traveled to level ground. He dismounted at

the foot of the hill just as lightning cracked the

black sky.

And _he_ was there, conjured up out of storm-whipped

air. His hair was a waterfall of sky blue silk over a

gray cloak, his skin alabaster with the faint bloom of

rose, his remaining eye as burgundy as wine and just

as intoxicating.

The rider's heart leapt, and his blood churned with love,

lust, longing. He dismounted and came to him, his beauty staggering.

Their eyes locked; he was eager for the older man who

was mage, monk, and lover.

"Tasuki, have you traveled all night, no da? You must

want something."

"Chichiri." His lips bowed in a smile. "I want

everything."

"Only everything, na no da?" His laugh was low and

intimate. "Well I guess that's a good enough answer

I'll ever get out of you, no da. I've been waiting

for you."

Then Chichiri's arms were around him, mouth lifting to

his. He pulled the smaller man closer; wild to have

whatever he was offering, and more.

"I've been waiting for you," he repeated. "I can't

fight this alone. Mikuni is too strong, her dark

forces too greedy. Koi, why did you shut me out of

your heart?"

He drew the older man away. The temple was gone - only

ruins remained, empty, battle-scarred. They stood in

the shadow of what had been, before a small house.

"The time is short now," he continued. "Tasuki, you

must come to me. Destiny can't be denied. Without

you with me, she'll win."

Chichiri lifted a hand to his face, and it passed

through him as if he were a ghost. Or perhaps _he_ was

the ghost. "I have loved you throughout time. I am

bound to you. Come to me soon. Find me. Or I'm

lost."

Then he was gone.

*~~~*

The redhead awoke gasping for breath. And reaching

out.

*~~~*

"Kou Genrou, you need a vacation," his mother said.

Genrou sipped his coffee. He wasn't sure why he'd

come home to Brooklyn to listen to his mother

complaining about his life.

"I'm seriously considering that right now."

"Try Montana," his father suggested. As usual, no one

paid him any attention.

"You need a couple of weeks away from the city life,"

his mother said. "You're looking tired."

"That's because I'm home, listening to you bitch," he

grumbled. "But I have been thinking of taking a

trip."

"Good," his mother said. "You've been working too

hard. Not that we aren't proud of you. After your

exhibit last month I couldn't stop bragging to the

point that the neighbors started to hide when they saw

me coming."

"That's your huge-ass breasts scaring them, Ma. 

Besides, I'm fine. Just not sleeping well."

"Have you seen a doctor?" his mother asked,

remembering her son as a boy, who had walked in his

sleep, and had dreamed of bandits, gods, and battle.

"Ma, I'm fine." Genrou said. "I'm planning to go to

China." It came out of Genrou's mouth before he'd

realized the idea was in his head.

"China?" His mother pursed her lips. "Not to work?"

"No, to…to see," he said. "Just to see."

She nodded, satisfied. A vacation, after all, was a

vacation. "Going to look up ancestors, Gen-chan?"

"I might." He was going to look up something, he

realized. _Or someone._


	2. 1

Spellbound

*(1/6)

By Sakata Ri Houjun

Warning: Chichiri may seem a little OOC, but it'll be

explained.

**********

It was raining when he landed at the airport. He'd

slept nearly all the way across the Pacific. And the

dreams had chased him. He went through customs,

rented a car, and changed money. As he completed the

tasks, he tried not to dwell on the idea that he might

be having some kind of breakdown.

He climbed behind the wheel, and then simply sat

wondering what to do, where to go. Suddenly an odd

chill raced through him, and he thought, for just a

moment, that he heard the cry of a strange bird.

Just stress, he told himself. But why would he be

stressed when his career was advancing by leaps and

bounds? He was still in his early twenties, a

successful photographer who could name his price, call

his own shots. And it liked it that way.

If he was having a breakdown, it could only be cured

by relaxation, and a change of scene. That's what

he'd come to China for. He started the car and began

to drive aimlessly.

He'd had dreams before, when he was a boy. Temples

and palaces, bandits and a man with hair the color of

the sky. He'd spoken to him sometimes with a strange

high-pitched voice. And sometimes he'd spoken in a

language he didn't know - but had understood

nonetheless.

His parents had been concerned when he seemed to see

things, to speak of places and people he couldn't have

had knowledge of. They'd worried over him when his

sleep was disturbed night after night. As he grew

older, feelings and needs for the azure-haired man that weren't

innocent had begun to stir. 

He was here only to prove to himself that he was an

ordinary man suffering from overwork. He would soak

up the atmosphere of China, take the pictures that

pleased him.

He drove along the storm-battered road. Rain pattered

the windshield, and fog slithered over the ground. It

was hardly a warm welcome, yet he felt at home. As if

something, or someone, was waiting to take him in from

the storm.

He would eventually find some bar or inn and get some

sake to warm him up, but for now he had to see more of

this haunting landscape. His ancestors had roamed

these spearing cliffs, these rolling hills. _They had_

to have been great warriors, he thought.

The scene that burst into his mind then was viciously

clear. The flash of swords clashing, the screams of

battle in full power, the burn as metal pierced flesh.

Looking down, he saw blood welling on his thigh.

Genrou found he had stopped on the side of the road. Had

he blacked out? Was he losing his mind? Trembling,

re reached down and ran his hands over his jeans. 

There was no wound.

Jet lag, he decided. Jet lag and stress, that was

all. He needed to find a place to stay. Hell, he needed a

drink. He would find some quiet place where he could

rest his mind. And when the storm had passed, he

would get his camera and go for a long walk.

He continued along the winding road.

*~~~*

The ruins came into view as he rounded the curve. 

Perched on a hilltop, it shimmered with power and

defiance despite its tumbled rocks.

Out of the boiling sky, one lance of lightning speared

and exploded with light. He swung onto the narrow

dirt road that led up. He wanted a picture of the

temple, and then he'd be on his way.

So intent was he on the light and shadows that played

on stone that he didn't see the dwelling until he was

nearly upon it. It was so charming, so unexpected. 

It was white and smoke trailed out of the chimney. A

sleek white cat napped beside a wooden chair on the

little covered porch. _Someone made a home here_, he

thought, _and tended it_.

Suddenly, there he was, standing in the lashing rain,

the wind swirling around him. Though Genrou hadn't

heard the approach, he was halfway between the cottage

and the old temple.

His hair was wet, transformed into a deep cerulean

that was tied away from a face that might have been

carved out of ivory by a master. His mouth was soft

and seemed to tremble as it curved into a smile of

welcome. His eyes were burgundy and powerful.

"I knew you would come, no da. I've waited for you." 

He raced the distance between them, his voice lilting

with the high-pitched squeak before his mouth crushed

Genrou's.

There was a moment of blinding, searing joy. Another

of dark, primal lust. The other man's taste, sharp,

potent, soaked into his system as the rain soaked his

skin. Genrou was helpless to do anything but absorb

it. His arms were chained around his neck, his slim

body pressed intimately to his, the heat from it

seeping through his sodden shirt and into his bones.

His mouth was as wild and edgy as the sky thundering

above them. And it was all terrifyingly familiar.

He brought his hands to the smaller man's shoulders,

then eased back and held him at arm's length. He was

beautiful. He was aroused. And they were, he assured

himself, strangers.

The cerulean-haired man gave Genrou a smile and let

his fingers linger in his fiery-red hair. "Welcome to

China and the Temple of Suzaku, no da."

Genrou's gaze shifted towards the ruins. "Is that

what this place is called?"

"That's its name, no da." He offered a hand, as he

would any wayward traveler. "You've had a long

journey. Come, sit by the fire and have some sake, na

no da."

"You don't fucking know me." He made it a statement

rather than a question.

"Won't you come inside, Kou Genrou, and get out of the

rain, no da?"

He felt his body tremble. "How did you know my name?"

"The same way you knew to come here, no da."

Genrou pushed the front door of the small house open,

and the warmth struck him instantly.

"Make yourself at home, na no da."

Genrou stepped near to the fire and studied the room

with the sharp eye of an artist. _Quiet colors_, he

thought. Absently he crouched to pet the cat who had

followed them inside. The creamy white fur was warm

and damp. _Real._ He had some important questions to

ask his host - and he wasn't going anywhere until he had

answers.

"Won't you have a drink, Genrou?"

"How the fuck you know my name?" he asked while

downing the offered cup of alcohol.

"Daaa. I'll explain what I can." His eyes were

turbulent with emotion. "Do you have no memory of me

at all, no da?"

"I don't know you," he said defensively.

"I am Ri Houjun, guardian of this holy place, no da. 

You're welcome in my home, Kou Genrou."

"You said you knew I would come, you knew my name. 

How?"

He couldn't lie to the young red-head - honesty was part

of his pledge. "I've waited for you all my life," he

said quietly. "And a millennium before it began." 

Raising his hands, he laid them on Genrou's face. 

"The memory of your touch has haunted me every night

of my life."

"That's bullshit."

"I can't lie to you, no da. It's not in my power. 

You're not ready to hear, to believe." His eyes

softened a little, fingertips stroking his temples. 

"Genrou, you're tired and confused, no da. It's rest

you're needing now and ease for you mind. I can help

you, na no da."

Genrou's vision grayed, and the room swam. He could

see nothing but Houjun's eyes, deep burgundy, utterly

focused. His scent swam into his senses like a drug.

"Rest now, koi."

He felt Houjun's lips brush his before he slid

blissfully into the dark.


	3. 2

Spellbound

*(2/6)

By Sakata Ri Houjun

********************

Genrou awoke to silence. _There had to have been_

something in the sake, he thought. With a jolt, he

sat straight up, terrified. And naked.

Surprise ran a swift race with embarrassment as he

imagined Houjun undressing him and getting him into

bed. How had the smaller man carted him here?

His clothes, clean and dry, were folded neatly on an

old chest. At least he didn't expect him to run

around in his skin. With some relief he reached

quickly for his jeans.

He felt better once they were zipped, then realized

that he felt more than better. He felt wonderful.

Alert, rested, energized. Whatever Houjun had given

him had rocked him into the solid, most restful sleep

he hadn't experienced in weeks. How long had he been

sleeping?

He went to the window to look out. The view was

stunning.

He could see the rugged ground where the ruined temple

climbed; make out glints of stone where the sun

struck. The ground tumbled away toward the road, and

then gave way to miles of green fields. Houses were

tucked into valleys. Trees twisted up, bent by years

of resisting the relentless wind. And beyond all that

was a distant range of mountains, their peaks hidden

in the high clouds.

The sight swelled his artist's heart. The filtering

sun had softness, majesty he'd never seen anywhere

else. He had to capture it. He bolted out of the

room, down the steps and into the gentle sun. He

grabbed his Nikon off the front seat of his car and

picked his position.

*~~~*

Houjun watched him from the temple ruins. _Such_

energy. Soon he would have questions that he would

have to answer.

He stepped to where a circle had been drawn across the

broken stone floor and stood in its center. Power

tingled in his fingertips, but it was weak. Raising

his arms to the sky, he began his chant.

*~~~*

Genrou could see Houjun though the ruins. He was

beautiful, unearthly. The language he spoke was now

familiar from his dreams. With unsteady hands, Genrou

lowered his camera. Somehow he could see beyond the

words and into Houjun's thoughts as clearly as if they

were written on a page.

__

Protect. Defend. The battle is nearly upon us. Help

me. Help him.

There was fear in his thoughts. And it made Genrou

want to shield Houjun. As he approached, the older

man's eyes fixed on his. He held up a hand quickly

before he could touch him. "Don't cross the circle,

no da."

As he walked out of the circle, the wind that had

poured through his unbound hair gentled.

"Did you sleep okay, no da?" he asked as he combed

fingers through the unruly strands and began tying it

back.

Genrou's eyes narrowed. "What the fuck did you put in

my sake?"

"Nothing." He smiled at his camera. "You've been

working."

"Why did you strip me?"

"You're clothes were damp, na no da." Houjun saw his

thoughts in his eyes and laughed. "Genrou, I'll not

deny that I looked. But in truth, I prefer you being

awake and participating, no da."

"I want some damn answers," he said.

"Are you ready, no da? Then I shall tell you a story, Kou

Genrou. A story of great love and great betrayal, of

power and lust. One of magic, gained and lost."

"I don't want a story. I want answers."

"It's the same, no da. Once, long ago, this temple

was erected in honor of seven individuals, seven

shichisehi, who protected a miko and served a god of

fire. At the end of a fierce war, only two of those

seishi remained. Together, they protected a holy

relic known as the shinzaho that had been placed in

this very temple."

Houjun walked toward curving stone steps and began to

climb. Genrou followed. He could see that some of

the stones were blackened, as if from a great fire. 

Laying a hand on one, he swore he could still feel

heat.

"One was a monk who was quiet and reserved and wielded

great magic. The other was a bandit who had an

immense love of life that could not be quelled. He

was as wild as the fire he controlled. The bandit

left frequently because he was still young, but always

returned to the temple and his duty."

Houjun walked across a wide parapet to a stone rail

that stood overlooking the hill, presenting Genrou

with an even better view that he had seen from the

bedroom.

"Years passed and the bandit found himself caught in a

battle during one of his adventures. He was gravely

wounded."

Gently he traced a fingertip on Genrou's thigh. The

redhead forced himself not to think about the

hallucination he'd had while driving toward this

place.

"He was weary when he finally arrived here. The monk

tended his wound and in the end gave him his heart as

well. The bandit offered back his own. They were all

to each other from that moment. The monk was known as

Chichiri, and the bandit's name was Tasuki. Their

hearts were linked.

"They loved each other, and pledged one to the other,"

he continued. "But the bandit still ventured out. Meanwhile, a

demon named Mikuni attempted to lure Chichiri away

from Tasuki. She lusted after the monk, his body,

heart, soul, and his power as well, for Chichiri was

strong. She ventured into his dreams, thought to

seduce him, but he spurned her."

Houjun's fingers tightened on the stone. "Her anger

was immense. She set to kill the man Chichiri loved. 

Mikuni planted seeds of doubt, hints of betrayal in

Tasuki's sleeping mind. She gave him visions of

Chichiri wrapped in another's arms. And with those

images tormenting him, Tasuki rode back to the temple

to accuse him.

"Chichiri was proud," Houjun said after a moment. 

"They argued bitterly, tempers ruling over their

hearts. It was then that Mikuni attacked. She'd

waited for the moment when the lovers hurled pain at

each other. Mikuni struck Tasuki down so that his

blood ran through the stones of this temple and into

the ground."

Tears glinted in Houjun's eyes. "Chichiri's grief

blinded him, but he cast a circle quickly, fighting to

save his lover. He knew his wound was mortal, but

refused to accept.

"The walls of this place rang with the evil demon's power.

In the circle, weak and dying, Tasuki reached for his

weapon and called upon his fire to vanquish the demon

and save Chichiri. In his heart he called for

Chichiri, understanding now his betrayal and foolish

pride. His name was on Tasuki's lips as he died."

Houjun sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "Chichiri

was lost without him. Mikuni wanted to take him,

willing or not. With the last of his strength, he

picked up the bandit's body and stumbled out of the

protection of the circle and into the flames. He

made a vow before he died. He swore his abiding love

for Tasuki. For a thousand years and more, he would

wait.

"The god he served was impressed with the strength of

his love and granted Chichiri that wish, one that

would reunite him with Tasuki. That way, they could

fight Mikuni as one. If their hearts were strong,

they would defeat her. But such wishes have a price,

and this price was to vow that if Tasuki did not stand

with him, he would belong to Mikuni."

Genrou waited a moment, surprised that he found the

story hypnotic. Studying Houjun, he said, "Romantic

nonsense."

He shook his head. "Can you look at me, hear me, and

remember nothing?"

"You want me to believe I'm the reincarnation of a

bandit and you're the reincarnation of a monk?" He

let out a short laugh. "We've waited a millennium and

now we're going to do battle with the damn wicked

witch of the West?"

Houjun stopped directly in front of him. "You can see

for yourself that I'm not without power, no da."

"You're fucking crazy." He started to turn.

"Hold!" Houjun drew in a breath, and Genrou's feet

were cemented to the spot. Though his hand was

trembling with the effort, he smiled. "See?"

"What is this?"

"Proof, if you'll take it, no da." He reached out his

hand. "I've called you in the night, Genrou, but you

wouldn't hear me. Can you look at me and deny it, no

da?"

"No, but I don't want any of this shit."

"I can't make you want anything. I can only make you

see." He swayed suddenly, surprising them both.

Genrou swept him up into his arms and carried him down

and away from the temple. Houjun wound his arms

weakly around the redhead's neck. His mouth was close

to his, already softly parted in invitation. Genrou

felt his muscles quiver. If he was caught in a dream,

it was more vivid than any he had had before.


	4. 3

Spellbound

*(3/6)

By Sakata Ri Houjun

Warning: It gets rather lemony at the end.

*******************************************

The air shimmered between them as Genrou set Houjun

down on a chair in the kitchen. "There's a

cobalt-blue bottle in the cupboard. Would you fetch

it for me and a glass, no da?"

Genrou opened the door and found bottles of all colors

and shapes. "Which one of these did you put in my

sake last night?"

Houjun sighed heavily. "Genrou, I put nothing in you

drink, no da. I gave you a sleep spell, a harmless

one, because you needed it."

He found the blue bottle and set it and a glass on the

table. Houjun poured a bit into the glass and sipped.

"It's only herbs, no da. And a touch of magic for

energy, na no da."

"I don't believe in magic."

A glint of amusement was in his eyes. "I'll set to

working on that soon enough."

"But I'm willing to consider some sort of psychic

connection."

"That's a beginning then, no da."

Genrou could accept some sort of connection, for it

had been his voice echoing through his dreams, his

face floating through his memory. "So when is this

anniversary you spoke of earlier?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Cutting it close, aren't you?"

"You didn't want to hear me. Why did you stop

answering, Genrou?"

He couldn't deny it. He'd been pulled to the

cerulean-haired man no matter how he struggled. 

__

Accept this, he realized, _or accept insanity_. 

"Because I wanted to be normal," he admitted.

"So you rejected me, and the gift you'd been given,

for what you see as normalcy?"

"It was driving me fucking insane."

"It wasn't meant to be a burden, but a joy."

"Where the hell is my choice in all this?"

"The choice has always been yours, no da."

"Fine. I don't want any part in this."

"And me, Genrou. Do you not want me as well?"

"No." It was a lie that burned on his tongue. "I

don't want you."

Genrou heard the laughter then, a nasty buzz on the air. 

Then saw fear leap into Houjun's eyes even as the

older man whirled and flung himself in front of him

like a shield.

"Iya!" his voice boomed full of power and authority. 

"You are not welcome here! You have no right here!"

The shadows in the doorway swirled, coalesced, and formed

into a woman. She wore black robes on a slender

frame. And had a face as beautiful as any fairy-tale

princess.

"Chichiri, your time is short." Her voice was laced

with dark amusement. "There is no need for this war

between us. I offer you such power. You've only to

take my hand, accept."

"Do you think I would? That a thousand years, or ten

thousand, would change my heart, Mikuni?"

"The wait is nearly at an end." Mikuni lifted a hand,

and thunder crashed overhead. "Send the bandit away

and he goes unharmed. If he stays, his end will be as

it was before, and I will have you, Chichiri, unbound

or in chains. The choice is yours."

Houjun lifted a hand, and light glinted off his palm. 

"Come to me now, Mikuni." His voice was a sultry

dare. "Do you risk it?"

"Tomorrow night, Chichiri." Her gaze flickered to

Genrou, amusement shining dark. "You, bandit,

remember death?"

There was a sudden sharp pain stabbing into Genrou's

belly. It burned like acid, cutting off his breath,

even as he gripped Houjun and shoved the older man

behind him, his instincts taking over.

"Touch Chiri and ya die," he growled menacingly.

And so she faded, leaving only an echo of taunting

laughter. Genrou pressed a hand to his stomach, half

expecting to find blood, or worse, dripping through

his fingers.

"She can't harm you, no da." Houjun's voice

registered dimly. "She can only deceive you with

pain. It's all tricks and lies with her."

"I saw her. I saw it," Genrou said, dazed.

"Hai. She's stronger than I'd believed, and more

rash, to come here like this. Mikuni is full of lies,

Genrou. You must never forget it, no da."

"I fucking saw her," Genrou repeated, struggling to

absorb the reality. "And I could see through her."

"She wouldn't dare risk coming here in full form. Not

as yet."

"You said she was a demon but she looked at you with

desire."

"Hai, she wants me. She has broken into my dreams and

shown me just what she wants. She disgusts me," he

said trembling and pressed his face against Genrou's

shoulder.

Genrou brought the smaller man close. "She won't

touch you, Houjun." His lips then found Houjun's. 

All the confusion slid away as he melted into that

kiss. Whatever had brought him here he would face.

Houjun's heart hammered fast as he nipped at his lip,

urging the redhead on. Genrou heard Houjun moan his

name, then whisper words ripe with longing. The words

were of an ancient dialect, yet he understood them.

"Koi," Houjun whispered. "It's been a lifetime. 

Aishiteru, no da." Slowly he unfastened his shirt and

parted the material, letting it slide to the floor.

Genrou kept his golden eyes locked on that familiar

gaze. "You said that to me before."

Emotions swirling, he smiled. "I did. A thousand

years ago."

Genrou remembered. Houjun had offered himself before back then

without restrictions. And he'd lost himself in that

love.

"You used to have a scar too, didn't you?" He reached

up and ran a thumb over the left cheekbone, just below

the eye.

Houjun nodded once, his hands moving to remove

Genrou's shirt. The younger man shook his head, and

the image of the scarred monk faded away. Memory or

imagination, it no longer mattered. He knew only one

vital thing.

"Whatever happened before, this is real."

He scooped the cerulean-haired man into his arms, and stared back, spellbound. Houjun could taste the

sharp edge of his passion as he laid him on the bed. 

"What about the rest of our clothes, no da?" he

managed a quick smile.

"I'll take care of that. Lie back, Houjun. I want to

see you with your hair flowing over the pillows." 

Genrou watched the older man's expressions as he

finished undressing them both. "I don't know what I

believe. Except one thing. This matters. Here. Now.

You matter."

"Love me, no da." Houjun drew the younger man's mouth

down to his own. "I've been lonely without you by my

side."

It was slow and sweet. Sighs and secrets, tastes and

textures. They filled their hands with flesh and

their hearts beat thickly. The sun warmed their

bodies as pleasure ran rampant. And the love that was

held so long in Houjun's heart bloomed like a flame.

"Tasuki…"

Blood thundered in Genrou's head as Houjun moaned the

name of that bandit. But it felt right to hear that

name spilling from his lips just as his seed spilled

into his hand. 

"Chiri…" He barely registered the name coming from

his own mouth, but it felt even more right. They made

love well into the night, their rhythm ancient and

sure as though they were made for each other.

*~~~*

As the tension drained form their bodies, they simply

held one another. "None of this makes any fucking

sense," Genrou whispered. "Am I supposed to believe

that I just made love to a monk?"

"You've had visions since you were a child, Genrou, no

da."

"I may be younger than you, but I'm not a child

anymore."

"You never were, koi. It was a gift you were given,

no da."

"It's too much for my head to understand." He sat up,

shaking his head. "I don't know what I feel."

"Then forget about it for tonight, no da." Houjun

pulled him down again in an embrace. "Just kiss me,

koi."


	5. 4

Spellbound

*(4/6)

By Sakata Ri Houjun

********************

Later, that same breezy night, Genrou followed Houjun

towards the temple once more. The older man eased

through the fallen columns as a chill wind blew

through the ruins. When Genrou caught up to him, he

noticed the shivering. "Are you cold?"

"I was for a moment, no da." He leaned his head

against the younger man's shoulder. "I have something

to show you, Genrou." He glanced toward the crumbling

hallways ahead and shivered again. "She's close," he

whispered. "And watching."

"Isn't it better to face her now and be done with it?"

"We can't choose the time. It's already set." Houjun

gripped Genrou's hand and tugged him towards an

archway.

Once inside Houjun lifted both hands before his face. 

As he chanted, he twisted one wrist and a red glow

surrounded them. Genrou watched as the older man

shimmered with a power he couldn't understand.

"Come, Genrou," he said. As he started towards a set

of stairs leading downward, he chose his words

carefully. "We have little time. She'll work hard to

break the spell. She wants everything. And wants the

most precious treasure of this temple."

Houjun stopped in front of a door thick with carvings

that resembled ancient writing. "This room is barred

to her by power greater than mine, the same source

that mine is derived from, na no da." He passed a

hand over the wood, and slowly the door crept open.

Houjun stepped inside, and Genrou followed. Instantly

the room filled with the light of a hundred candles. 

In the center he saw a pedestal in a white circle, and

atop it was a globe, clear as glass.

"A crystal ball?"

Houjun crossed the room, putting the globe between

them. "Come closer. Mikuni lusts for me, envies you,

covets this. For all her power and trickery, she has

never gained what she craves most. This has always

been protected by a Suzaku shichiseishi and so it

remains hidden from Mikuni."

Gently, he lifted the globe from its perch. "Look,

koi. Do you know what this is?"

Colors shifted, image after image passed in a blur of

life, of past lives, and it pulsed with the power of

fire and pure love. "It's the shinzaho created when

Suzaku was summoned. Formed from the love that the

miko had for one of her protectors and given physical

form by the controller of this world, it not only

holds the power to summon gods and grant wishes, but

also carries the memories of our dear friends and the

life we lived together.

It gave Chichiri the power back then to have his wish

granted, enabled the two of us to communicate all this

time. If used incorrectly, it will bring misfortune

and disaster.

"And I place it in your hands now." Houjun placed the

small sphere in the redhead's grasp and it began to

pulse with a warm red light, like a living heart.

"But why my hands, Houjun?"

"We were once the guardians of this temple. We once

pledged our hearts to one another in this sacred

place. My heart and love for you is in that magical

sphere as well. Therefore, I am in your hands,

Genrou."

"And if Mikuni claims this, she'll claim you as well?"

"Hai, I will be bound to her, a thousand years. A

spell that cannot be broken." _Only with death_, he

thought. "But she is not without weaknesses. She

will not have this, Genrou. Nor will she bring harm

to you. That is my oath."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night Genrou's dreams were restful. There was a

globe of crystal, clear as water, where the past swam

from decade to decade, and century past century. 

There was a love sweet as sake and a need sharp as the

edge of a tessen made of diamond.

On this last night before he would face his fate,

Houjun, seeking comfort, lay sleepless in his lover's

arms.

__

He will be safe, he thought, laying a hand over his

heart. And his own safety depended on that heart. If

Genrou did not choose to stand with him linked by

love, he was lost.

__

For years we slept like this and I never before have I

appreciated it like I do now. My heart stayed true

and strong even when we were parted, only to be reborn

a thousand years later. And now my love will be a

shield that will protect him from reliving his death

again. His gift to me back then was his heart, but

now…? If he brings me his love out of free will, we

will bring Mikuni to her doom. When the dawn breaks I

hope that our love will find a way and that our lives

can be free of this evil.

Those were the words that echoed in Houjun's mind as

he realized that when the moon rose again, it would be

settled, one way or another.


	6. 5

Spellbound
    
    *(5/6)
    
    By Sakata Ri Houjun
    
    *******************
    
    Genrou woke, alone.  For a moment, he thought it had
    
    all been another one of his dreams.  The beautiful
    
    cerulean-haired man, the ruined temple, the globe that
    
    held the power of a god.  A hallucination brought on
    
    by fatigue.
    
    But he recognized the room and got out of bed as the
    
    sun streamed in.
    
    Was it you, or another, he made love to in the night? 
    
    Genrou's eyes went dark as the voice whispered slyly
    
    in his head.  He called another's name.  Believes you
    
    to fill the place of his dead lover and has lured you
    
    here. 
    
    The room was suddenly airless.  He reached blindly for
    
    the door, found only swirling air.
    
    He has you trapped here.  He will use you to gain what
    
    he wants.   Who will you be when this is finished?
    
    Genrou yanked open the door and stumbled out,
    
    trembling all over.  Something cold and smelling of
    
    death had crowded into that room.
    
    Damn imagination running away with me, he thought. 
    
    Whose wouldn't, under these circumstances?  He went to
    
    find Houjun.
    
    He was writing.  His hands were graceful, his movement
    
    precise as he wrote one character after another on the
    
    paper.  Genrou's suddenly found himself wanting his
    
    camera.  And him.
    
    Houjun looked up and smiled.  "Did you finally decide
    
    to join the living, no da?"
    
    "Is it late?"
    
    He laughed as he stood and kissed him lightly.  "Half
    
    past-ten, demo you always were a late sleeper, na no
    
    da."
    
    Looking serious, then, Genrou asked, "Did I choose to
    
    come here, Houjun, or did you?"
    
    He has lured you here.  He will use you to gain what
    
    he wants.
    
    "Did I choose for you to be here, no da?  I-is that
    
    what you think?  After all I've told you?"
    
    "Just answer the damn question."
    
    Houjun's heart wept in despair.  Genrou was looking at
    
    him with none of the love he needed.  "No, Genrou, I
    
    did not force you to come here.  If that had been in
    
    my power, would I have waited so long for you?  I
    
    asked you to come, but the choice was yours.
    
    "You broke my heart when you shut me out.  That choice
    
    was yours also, for the knowledge was in your heart. 
    
    I was born loving you.  There's been no other in my
    
    heart.  Everything I am, or was, or will be, is yours.
    
     I cannot change my heart."
    
    Turning, Houjun bolted from the room, tears stinging
    
    his eyes.  Genrou went after him but found no trace of
    
    the older man outside.  Houjun told him that he loved
    
    him.  But leaving before he had a chance to examine
    
    his own heart?  Houjun expected too much.  Wanted too
    
    much.
    
    Then he turned and stared at the temple.  And knew. 
    
    "All right, damn it," he muttered as he strode toward
    
    the ruins.  "No magic, no legends.  We're going to
    
    talk this thing through."
    
    He stepped toward the arch and was stopped by a
    
    transparent shield that blocked him.
    
    "What kind of fucking game is this?"  Eyes narrowed,
    
    he drove his shoulder against it; it yielded nothing. 
    
    He circled the temple, testing each opening.
    
    "Houjun!"  He pounded the air with his fists until
    
    they ached.  "Let me the fuck in!"
    
    From that high parapet, Houjun faced the distant
    
    mountains.  He heard Genrou call for him.  But his
    
    decision was made.
    
    He couldn't tell the younger man that his life was
    
    lost if by the hour of midnight he had not vowed his
    
    love.  He had done all he could and Tasuki was never
    
    coming back to him.  At least Genrou would be
    
    protected, his lover spared, and the shinzaho would be
    
    sealed away. 
    
    Mikuni didn't know how strong his will was.  Didn't
    
    know that that he carried a powder of poison with him.
    
     If his love did not triumph, he would end his life
    
    again.  Houjun had only hours now to gather his ki. 
    
    He began the chant.
    
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    
    Genrou backed away.  "Go on and sulk then," he shouted
    
    as he stalked back to the dwelling.
    
    He shoved open the bedroom door, reached for his
    
    camera.  Under it was a leather garment.
    
    "That wasn't here before," he muttered.  Gingerly he
    
    picked up the wide strip of soft leather, dyed gold
    
    and crafted with an intricate design.  He thought at
    
    first it was a strange belt, but something told him
    
    otherwise.
    
    He buckled the garment across his chest, crossing
    
    diagonal from one shoulder.  It fit perfectly.  As he
    
    started to remove it, he thought he heard a voice
    
    whispering.
    
    A gift.  Only a gift.
    
    "I look like a damn baka, but the hell with it," he
    
    muttered and, snatching up his camera, he went
    
    outside.
    
    Wandering the hills, he ran through roll after roll of
    
    film.  Spending the morning thus had settled his mood.
    
     It was time to go back and find Houjun.
    
    Suddenly a flash of white caught his eye.  Houjun's
    
    cat stood at the edge of the forest-his slanted eyes
    
    beckoning him to follow.  Genrou took a step forward,
    
    and then swore lightly when the cat whirled away with
    
    impossible speed into the woods.
    
    Genrou dived after it, following the sounds as it
    
    crashed through the brush.  Surprisingly, he was able
    
    to keep up with the cat's blistering pace.  Then there
    
    was silence.
    
    The sun burned like a furnace though the sheltering
    
    leaves.  Desperate for relief, he knelt by a brook.
    
    He reached down to cup some water in his hand, and
    
    pulled back a cup of coffee.
    
    "Do you good to get away for a few days."
    
    "Nani?"  He stared down at the mug in his hands, and
    
    then looked up into his mother's face.
    
    "Here now, he needs some water, not caffeine," said
    
    his father.  And water ran out of the kitchen faucet
    
    into a glass.
    
    Genrou sipped the water, shuddered.  "I had the most
    
    bizarre fucking dream."
    
    "Daijobu," his mother said.  "Everyone has dreams. 
    
    You need rest."
    
    "I'm not crazy, Ma.  There was this man.  Houjun."
    
    His father chuckled.  "You need sleep.  Don't give him
    
    another thought.  He's only trying to trap you."
    
    Suddenly Genrou felt calm.  "You're not real," he
    
    said.  "I reject you."
    
    Then he was running down a narrow road, breathless and
    
    heart hammering.
    
    "Tasuki," said a voice that was ancient and wise.  And
    
    familiar. 
    
    Genrou stopped and turned in the darkness only to leap
    
    back in absolute fear at the sight of the owner of
    
    that voice.
    
    "Sunakake Baba!"
    
    The wizened old woman shook her head sadly.  "You
    
    still haven't changed, bandit boy."
    
    Gasping for breath, Genrou asked, "Dare da?"
    
    "The question should be who you are.  You still
    
    haven't accepted the truth.  Knowing this and loving
    
    you, Chichiri has sent you away from danger and faces
    
    the demon alone."
    
    "Sent me where?  How?"
    
    "Open your eyes, Tasuki," the woman said, "and take
    
    what is offered to you.  Chichiri waits.  Without you,
    
    he dies this night."
    
    "Dies?"  Terror gripped his belly.  "Am I too late?"
    
    She only shook her head and faded back into air.
    
    He awoke stretched out on the bank.  The moon was
    
    rising in a dark sky.  "Iya."  He stumbled to his feet
    
    and felt a strange weight on his back.  "I can't be
    
    too late."
    
    Now the trees lashed, whipped by a wind that came from
    
    nowhere.  Overhead, lightning dimmed the glow of the
    
    full moon.
    
    "Chichiri.  Wait for me.  Aishiteru."
    
    The white cat from before appeared, it's patient eyes
    
    focused.  Tasuki rushed toward it as it leaped into
    
    the shadows, then fell into a clearing where moonlight
    
    beamed on an ebony horse.
    
    Taking the reins, Tasuki vaulted onto the saddle and
    
    trumpeted a battle cry.  As he rode, he reached back
    
    and withdrew his tessen; ready to protect the one he
    
    loved with his life.


	7. 6

Spellbound
    
    *(6/6)
    
    By Sakata Ri Houjun
    
    Warning: Minor violence, nothing more.
    
    ***************************************
    
    The Temple of Suzaku glimmered with the light of a
    
    thousand candles. Chichiri stood in a circle dressed
    
    in a simple white shirt and a pair of jeans, his
    
    unbound hair a waterfall down his back.
    
    In a swirl a smoke, Mikuni appeared before the monk. 
    
    Solid now, her flesh as real as his. She wore robes
    
    of black edged in crimson, of power and blood. She
    
    flung up a hand so that the walls shook. Where is
    
    the shinzaho?
    
    Beyond you, Mikuni, where it will remain safe. As
    
    will I.
    
    The moon is rising to midnight, Chichiri. The time
    
    of waiting is ending. Your lover has deserted you
    
    once again. She stepped closer, careful not to test
    
    the edge of the circle, her voice seductive. Why not
    
    accept what I offer you? We will rule together.
    
    I want no part of your dark kingdom.
    
    He's lost to you, Chichiri.
    
    He's safe from you. He threw up his head. So I
    
    have already won.
    
    Lifting his hands, he loosed a power that sent her
    
    flying back. Be gone from this holy place. Or face
    
    the death of mortals.
    
    A battle then, she retorted as a shadow at her feet
    
    took on the shapeless form of a demon, red-eyed, fangs
    
    bared.
    
    ~~~~~~
    
    Tasuki drove his mount furiously up the cliff to the
    
    castle. Visions came quickly. Chichiri weeping as he
    
    watched him sleep. The dark chamber with the globe
    
    held between them and the whispering of the spell.
    
    You will be safe and free. There is nothing left,
    
    koi. Follow Tama far away from the danger and don't
    
    come back if you heart isn't true. Live and be well. 
    
    What cannot be held is best forgotten.
    
    Terror struck, for Tasuki knew what Chichiri meant to
    
    do.
    
    ~~~
    
    Chichiri fought fiercely, cleaving the demon's head
    
    from its body with one stroke of his shakujo that
    
    appeared suddenly in his hand. Yet he knew that he
    
    would lose when midnight rang.
    
    Mikuni could not break the circle and claim him. But
    
    she sent the ground heaving under his feet, watched
    
    him fall to his knees.
    
    Will you ask for pain, Chichiri? Spare yourself. 
    
    Just give me your hand-and the shinzaho.
    
    I will not yield.
    
    You will. She inched closer. You have no choice. 
    
    The spell was cast, the time has come. You belong to
    
    me now.
    
    I belong to Suzaku. Chichiri pulled a small vial
    
    from his pocket, then flipped its poison chamber open
    
    with his thumb. With a last show of defiance, he
    
    smiled. You will never claim what belongs to
    
    Suzaku.
    
    He brought the vial to his lips to take the powder.
    
    A horse and its rider burst in. Baka! You'd rather
    
    die than trust me? Tasuki demanded furiously.
    
    The vial slipped through Chichiri's fingers, the
    
    powder sifted on the stones. 
    
    Harm him, Mikuni, and I'll rip your damn head off!
    
    Mikuni straightened slowly. You were a fighter a
    
    thousand years ago, Tasuki. You are no fighter
    
    tonight.
    
    Tasuki vaulted from his horse. His tessen sang as he
    
    opened it to its fullness. Try me, bitch.
    
    Black balls of lightning shot out from her hands,
    
    hissing trails of snaking sparks. Tasuki raised his
    
    tessen and called upon the incantation that was
    
    ingrained in his mind. Magical flame roared to meet
    
    the incoming dark magic. Both spells canceled each
    
    other in a burst of light and singed stone.
    
    Your power is nothing here! Chichiri shouted, on his
    
    feet again. We are the guardians of this place,
    
    keepers of what you will never own, and wielders of
    
    holy magic! Fear me, Mikuni! And fear Tasuki who
    
    stands with me!
    
    He will not stand with you. You will both bow to my
    
    will, Mikuni warned. Then she whirled on Tasuki. 
    
    You, remember death?
    
    Tasuki's tessen clattered onto the stone, and he heard
    
    Chichiri's cry of fear and rage. You will not harm
    
    him! It's only an illusion! Tasuki, hear me! His
    
    terror for his lover was so blinding that he ran to him,
    
    leaving the charm of the circle.
    
    A bolt of energy sent Chichiri reeling. Paralyzed and
    
    laying next to his lover, he fought for his strength. 
    
     He could only watch as his lover knelt on
    
    the stones, unarmed, bleeding. You must fight it,
    
    he whispered. Weakly he reached out to the redhead.
    
    Mikuni dragged Chichiri roughly to his knees by his
    
    hair. Give me the shinzaho and I will spare you,
    
    she said to him.
    
    You are in bondage to me for a hundred years times
    
    ten, then. This pain you feel will be yours until you
    
    bend your will to mine. She lowered her gaze to his
    
    mouth. A kiss, she said, to seal the spell.
    
    Tasuki's fingers covered those of Chichiri's. Feeling
    
    his power flow into him, he loosed a spell and
    
    disappeared. Mikuni looked up in confusion as they 
    
    both reappeared at the far end of the room. Tasuki
    
    stepped in front of Chichiri and raised his tessen.
    
    You're toast now, bitch. The bandit's eyes burned. 
    
    The pain swirling through him only added to his
    
    strength. Can you burn, demon? he demanded and
    
    brought the tessen down like fury.
    
    There was a cry, inhuman, as fire consumed the woman. 
    
    A blinding flash followed this. The ground heaved and
    
    lightning struck. The explosion lifted the bandit off his
    
    feet. Even as he grabbed for Chichiri, Tasuki felt
    
    himself hurled into the dark.
    
    Visions played through his head. Someone told him to
    
    sleep, but he shook off the words. He had slept long
    
    enough.
    
    He came to, aching in every bone. He could see the
    
    last of the stars just winking out. He tried to shake
    
    off the dream.
    
    The cat, Tama, was watching him. Dazed and in pain,
    
    he pushed himself up and saw that he was lying on the
    
    stone floor of the temple. The scent of smoke and
    
    blood still clung to the air.
    
     Panicked, Tasuki heaved himself to his
    
    feet. And nearly stumbled over him.
    
    Chichiri was sprawled on the ground, his face pale,
    
    bruised, his clothes torn and scorched.
    
     he said again. 
    
    He stirred. Tasuki. You protected me.
    
    You should know by now that I would have. He
    
    cradled the older man against him. But you sent
    
    that damn cat to lure me away, away from you. Why?
    
    I wanted you to be safe, no da. Mikuni made you
    
    doubt me again.
    
    And then Taiitsukun showed up
    
    She wasn't supposed to interfere, Chichiri said as
    
    he got up and strolled towards the door that contained
    
    the shinzaho. The air is clearing of Mikuni's evil,
    
    he added as he stepped through the door.
    
    It's over, then?
    
    Hai. She's been destroyed. And the shinzaho remains
    
    safe.
    
    You were going to take poison.
    
    I couldn't face what she had in mind for me.
    
    If I'd been there a moment later, you would have
    
    killed yourself. Couldn't you trust me enough to help
    
    you?
    
    I was afraid to , no da.
    
    Chichiri strode towards the shinzaho and placed his
    
    hands on the globe's smooth surface. Tasuki, you met
    
    your fate. You came to me when I needed you. In this
    
    holy place you fought against dark and deadly magic. 
    
    You've saved my life and protected this relic, and in
    
    so doing fulfilled your duty as a seishi.
    
    He smiled. You are brave and true. And Suzaku will
    
    now grant you a wish to honor that loyalty.
    
    Like unlimited wealth or incredible sexual power?
    
    Chichiri's chin went rigid. If that's what you want.
    
     But be sure of what you wish for.
    
    Money? Sex? Power, maybe? So, just what do I
    
    want? He narrowed his eyes in consideration, then
    
    stepped towards Chichiri and the shinzaho. He placed
    
    his hands on the globe, covering the cerulean-haired
    
    man's with his own. 
    
    You. I want you.
    
    To do what , no da? he asked, then blinked when
    
    Tasuki roared with laughter. Oh, don't waste a wish
    
    on that, na no da.
    
    I want all of you, Chichiri, he said. No
    
    restrictions. For better or worse, he continued,
    
    for richer or poorer.
    
    Chichiri couldn't get his breath. You want me, no
    
    da? But I don't have any hold on you.
    
    Don't you? He lowered his mouth, buckling the
    
    monk's knees with his kiss. You can't lie to me. 
    
    He captured his lips again. You were born loving me.
    
     You'll die loving me.
    
    Look at me, Tasuki murmured, easing back as Chichiri
    
    trembled. Beautiful Chichiri. Koibito.
    
    Tasuki. You love me?
    
    I was born loving you. The kiss was deep and sweet.
    
     I'll die loving you.
    
    Chichiri's breath released a shudder of joy. Love.
    
    Trust. Acceptance. The room was filled with a warm
    
    red glow that came from the shinzaho they were
    
    holding. Far off in the distance, they both could
    
    hear the keening cry of a bird taking flight.
    
     Chichiri smiled as he leaned in for another
    
    kiss. Your wish is granted.


End file.
